Volume One: Wandering Among Indistinguishable Leaves Chapter Fifty: Assassin

The attendant in green suddenly changed expression, his eyes turned cold, and with a swift movement, he locked Yang Ning’s wrist in a reverse grip. Yang Ning let out a cold laugh; he and the attendant each held the other's wrist, while Yang Ning’s free hand had already formed a fist, aiming straight for the attendant’s face.

Yet, the attendant’s skills were truly remarkable. He leaned back to avoid the punch, and just as Yang Ning tried to follow through and grab his face, a sharp pain stung Yang Ning’s palm, as if he’d been bitten by a bee. Realizing something was wrong, in that instant, the attendant had already circled behind him.

Yang Ning hadn’t expected the attendant’s martial prowess to be so formidable. He was about to swing his leg backward in a kick when a flash of light appeared before his eyes—a thin wire was pulled toward his neck.

In a split second, Yang Ning thrust his right hand forward to shield his throat, while his other arm drove his elbow backward in a fierce strike. Though mere moments passed, Yang Ning already understood this attendant had undergone exceptionally rigorous training; his movements were crisp, swift, and deadly, each action meant to kill. An expert’s skill is instantly apparent, and Yang Ning himself had a background in the armed police, trained in simple but effective techniques. Surprisingly, the attendant’s methods closely resembled his own.

There was no time for further thought. The attendant was already tightening the fine wire around Yang Ning’s neck. Yang Ning’s hand blocked his throat, preventing the wire from strangling him, but his palm instantly cut open with a bloody line, the wire digging deeper and tighter. His own hand pressed against his throat, making it hard to breathe.

Yang Ning’s backward elbow struck the attendant’s waist hard, but the man’s resolve was strong; he only grunted softly, then drove his right knee into Yang Ning’s waist. Both hands pulled the crossed wire, his upper body leaning back, focusing all his strength into his grip, clearly intending to strangle Yang Ning to death.

Yang Ning felt his breath growing ever more labored, his chest tight, and the wire biting deep into his hand.

The attendant’s eyes glinted coldly, his face flushed from exertion. The veins on his hands bulged as he poured all his strength into his grip. He knew such a move was most effective—a victim ensnared by wire around the neck cannot cry out, nor escape the approach of death.

He actually relished the desperate struggle of prey on the verge of death, just like Yang Ning now, seemingly helpless and futile.

Of course, Yang Ning was not helpless. In his mind, the only one who could help him was himself; as long as he lived, he would never be helpless.

He did feel a moment of shock—awe at the attendant’s professionalism. This man was clearly a highly skilled assassin.

At the brink of life and death, Yang Ning had no time to ponder the assassin’s origins. His face was flushed from the lack of air, his consciousness starting to blur, but still, he slowly raised one leg.

The attendant saw Yang Ning raise his left leg, his eyes showing a mocking sneer, convinced Yang Ning was making a futile last struggle.

Suddenly, he saw Yang Ning reach down and grab his own left ankle. The attendant hadn’t noticed anything unusual, but Yang Ning reversed his grip, and a flash of steel appeared—a blade gleamed. The attendant felt his right hand loosen; the wire had been sliced in two.

The attendant’s face paled in shock. He had no idea Yang Ning had hidden an ice blade on his left calf. That blade was sharp beyond compare; cutting through the wire was no challenge.

In that instant, Yang Ning felt his throat loosen. He spun and thrust his blade at the attendant.

The attendant, though startled, reacted quickly; he ducked low and punched Yang Ning in the abdomen. The blow was forceful, and Yang Ning, struck hard, felt his stomach churn violently, his breathing disrupted.

The attendant was pleased with his punch, but then felt Yang Ning’s abdomen sink inward. He uttered a surprised "Hmm?"—his fist suddenly felt weak and numb, so he added more force.

After being punched, Yang Ning felt an erratic surge of energy in his abdomen. It was as if a small mouse had burrowed from the attendant’s fist into his belly, causing discomfort.

He had experienced this sensation before—when Old Mu pressed his shoulder with force, he felt energy rushing unpredictably inside. This time was milder, but still unpleasant. Naturally, Yang Ning immediately thought of the flow of meridians in the Six Harmonies Divine Skill.

Coincidentally, the Six Harmonies Divine Skill comprised eleven meridians, spanning the whole body. The attendant’s punch, whether intentional or not, struck Yang Ning’s Qi Sea acupoint in his abdomen, which was one of those eleven meridians.

As the punch landed, Yang Ning felt as if a small mouse had darted from the attendant’s fist into his Qi Sea acupoint, making him very uncomfortable.

The punch itself wasn’t particularly strong, but Yang Ning instinctively thought of the Six Harmonies Divine Skill’s meridian path. Just as before, he imagined guiding the mouse to the next acupoint, and astonishingly, the energy seemed to obey, following his mental direction.

The attendant added more force, his fist regaining strength, but only for a moment before it went limp again. He had to keep channeling energy.

He was unaware that his own internal force, once entering Yang Ning’s Qi Sea acupoint, inexorably flowed toward Yang Ning’s Dantian at the center of his chest.

This meridian wasn’t fully opened, so the energy flowed slowly. If it were fully unblocked, the attendant would feel his internal force draining away in torrents, not in intermittent surges as now.

Yet the attendant was clever; he repeatedly channeled energy, each surge lasting only a moment before vanishing. He sensed something was amiss and tried to withdraw his fist. But Yang Ning’s abdomen felt like a giant whirlpool, trapping his hand, making it impossible to pull away. The more he struggled, the more his fist stuck to Yang Ning’s belly.

He didn’t know that if he simply stopped using force, his fist would come free. The essence of the Six Harmonies Divine Skill was “gathering six harmonies, accumulating sand into a mound.” Only when external force surged could the skill gather and absorb it; without external force, it could not function.

If Yang Ning could control his internal energy at will, he could release or stop as he pleased. But in this situation, both sides were locked in self-defense, neither yielding. They became like a teapot pouring tea into a cup; as long as the teapot kept pouring, the cup had no choice but to accept.

After a moment of deadlock, the situation shifted. Although the attendant’s assassination moves were impressive, his internal force was nowhere close to the level of Lord Mu. As his energy drained, his face grew increasingly terrified. He tried to raise his other hand to push Yang Ning away, but found his arm limp and powerless, unable to lift.

The attendant was overcome with terror, desperately retreating, but his stuck arm dragged Yang Ning forward. Suddenly, with a loud crash, the attendant stumbled into a chair, overturning it and bringing Yang Ning down with him.

Almost immediately, footsteps approached from outside, followed by a deep voice: “Young Lord! Young Lord!”

At that moment, Yang Ning felt the energy coursing through his body, his mind focused solely on guiding the influx of force from his Qi Sea acupoint to his Dantian. He was oblivious to the shouts outside. There was a bang as the door was kicked open, and several guards from the courtyard rushed in.

The courtyard had been specially constructed by the imperial court; not only were there attendants, but also guards selected to serve in shifts. These guards were no ordinary men—upon hearing the commotion, they quickly responded.

Five or six guards burst into the room, seeing Yang Ning and the attendant locked together. After exchanging glances, they immediately understood, and one said in a deep voice, “Protect the Young Lord!”

They moved forward, seeing the attendant’s fist pressed against the brocade-robed Young Lord’s abdomen, both men trembling, faces flushed. For a moment, they could not discern what was happening. “Separate them first,” one said, and another stepped forward, gripping the attendant’s shoulders to drag him away.

As soon as he exerted force, his arms felt numb and weak, as if drained of strength. He quickly tried to channel energy into his arms, but soon felt them go limp again.

No one dared touch Yang Ning, the brocade-robed Young Lord, so they focused on separating the attendant.

“Quick…something’s…strange!” The guard gripping the attendant gasped weakly, “Help me…!”

The other guards were puzzled; their burly companion was usually strong, so why couldn’t he pull the attendant away? Seeing his face turn pale and his body tremble, two more guards stepped up, grabbing his arms to help pull.

But as they pulled, their arms too went numb and limp. They quickly tried to channel energy, but their arms felt glued, unable to let go.

Yang Ning felt more and more energy entering his Qi Sea acupoint. At first, the attendant’s force barely made it through the meridians, as if clogged with debris, but now, with fresh energy surging in, Yang Ning guided it through the meridian path, and it flowed much more smoothly.

Two more guards joined in, tugging at the group. Soon, they formed a long chain, each channeling energy, only to feel their arms go numb, unable to release. None thought to stop exerting force.

The whole chain of men convulsed, their faces turning pale, and their speech faltering, “Something’s…wrong…ghosts…!”

The last guard realized something was amiss. He didn’t dare approach, gripping his sword and hesitating, unsure what to do.

Just then, a figure burst into the room, tall and imposing, wielding a large blade—it was Duan Canghai.

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PS: The second update will be delivered soon!